The first time
by Beatriz Rodrigues
Summary: the first text to him...


The first time

You always told me that his biggest regret, was I never have written a text about you. Or one that I were cursing or exposing you. None. You've always been the only man who loved me. And I've never written to you a phrase in a crumpled paper for you. You were always the one friend who understood my desire to embrace the world when it comes dawn. And the one who always understood me when I was crying at dawn for failing to embrace the world.

Other day I found my diary, and there was written "Today I quit my boyfriend sitting, and danced with him at the prom." He, in this case, is you. I laughed and remembered that in all these years, although I have never written a text for you, I often let several boyfriends, sitting, and danced with you. Because you're my best mate dance even being shy and awkward.

Then I found a picture where you are wearing sunglasses mirrored style pothead. And I with colored pants with the style "dancer". And this time, you did not like me because I was the fool of the class. But I liked you because you had a green mohawk and piercings, and I thought it was very sexy. And I found myself ridiculous in the photo but felt something beautiful inside of the chest. Then I remembered that a few years later, when I was not the silly class, but an intern, a smartly tucked, only dating popular boys (assholes, actually), you saw it some charm and stole me a kiss. Pretending to faint. It was ridiculous. But it was less ridiculous than that time, still in college, that I broke into your car and you grabbed the force. You scream with me and spent nearly two weeks without talking to me.

I do not know exactly why you did not receive my text when you gave my first CD Strokes. Or when you gave me a book with stories of children to go to sleep happy. Or even when I already tired of you and all, you gave me the postcard of the Amazon with a tiger enrabando an ounce. Also do not know why I did not write a text when you appeared at that party tacky, saw me dancing in the corner of the table, and told me the phrase most beautiful I've ever heard in my life: "I know you do not like me, but lemme look anyway. "

Maybe I should have written a text for you, when I asked the only thing we do not ask someone who loves us "keep me company while my boyfriend is away?". And you did. And you look at me from the corner of eye, wondering why the hell I was doing this with you. Maybe, because even though I did not love you, you just kept wanting to look at me. And I cherished it. I liked. I sucked his love to survive a bit amid the lack of love I received from all the people who said "be with me".

After you started dating a girl, you left finally liking me. And I could have written a text for you. Sure I died of jealousy and felt a lack absurd you. But still, I let it go blank. Without a single line on the subject.

Then I could also have written about that day, that you yelled at me to desopilar every corner of your liver. I was in an endless grief. So I thought, just hate those we love. And I was happy. You can call me all names as you want as long as it means that you still like me a little.

My jokes, my way of speaking, my way of dancing or walking. Everything is you. My personality is you. When I shout singing Strokes in the car or when I make a friend happy with some irony cheap. Everything is you. When I put an earring small rather than large. Or when I'm home happy with my little things. Everything is you. I'm more of you than any man who crossed my life. And I always loved infinitely more to your company than any company in the world, although I have never shown it. And yet, ever, never even, I wrote a single word about you.

Until today. Until this morning. You, for the first time, went away without feeling sorry for it. It was the first time in all these years, you're gone. Like I was just one more thing in your life full of things. And you do not feel pain or longing. It was the first time you let me look at you, even you are not like me. And was so, because you no longer the boy who loved me and became just another one that used me, and you, like all others, deserved one my text.


End file.
